Gold Coast youth crime: How young crooks act when they arrive at Southport for court

It is supposed to be a place of consequence. When young crooks causing terror on the streets get their punishment for any number of crimes. But does a day in court really work?

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IT is supposed to be a place of consequence.

When young crooks causing terror on the streets get their punishment for any number of crimes.

Instead, Wednesday morning on the third floor of the Southport Courthouse is a social scene.

The waiting area is filled with children aged between 12 and 17 charged with anything from public nuisance, stealing and car theft to violent robberies.

Teens accused of crimes line up outside to get into Southport court. Picture: Jerad Williams

A common sentiment from lawyers about juvenile court day is that a majority of the teen offenders “don’t care” and treat a court appearance as “social time”.

The teens talk loudly, often yelling across the waiting room, and the language is often obscene.

Short bursts of explicit rap will sometimes burst from phone speakers while they wait.

Even in the middle of summer most of the teens are wearing oversized hoodies and tracksuit pants.

The girls are often in leggings and thongs or sandals.

The boys wear the latest sneakers.

Two teens arrive at court. Picture: Jerad Williams

Clothes are emblazoned with brand names with the most popular Nike, Adidas and Lonsdale.

Parents are supposed to attend court with each child, but in the waiting area teens often outnumber adults.

One mother comes back from retrieving her daughter who was loitering outside with friends.

“Can you please not wander off?” the mother asks.

“They are very busy in here today, we do not want to keep them waiting.”

The young girl, about 14, replies: “I’ll do what I want.”

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When another girl is told she had missed her name being called out while she was off the floor she yells “where is my food provider”.

A duty lawyer goes from child to child giving legal advice and discussing what will happen next for those who do not have private legal representation.

Moments later a representative from Youth Justice talks to the child to see if they understand, have everything they need and have any other questions.

Teens leaving the courthouse. Picture: Jerad Williams

The children are called into court with their parents one by one.

The courtroom is closed to the public. Media and the victim of a crime can apply to remain in the court on a case-by-case basis.

Granting access to the court is at the magistrate’s discretion.

A solo security guard is responsible for making sure the juveniles remain under control.

He has been working on the floor for so long he knows many of their names, will sit and chat to a few and often asks how the kids are after they leave the courtroom.

“Oh, it’s like herding cats,” the security guard is heard telling a parent when they are unable to find a child wanted inside the courtroom.

Some kids are asked to wait outside the courthouse if the floor is too full or if there is another child they have a problem with.

Outside the courthouse the children either sit near the door or across the road on a park bench smoking.

They are often laughing and will talk to other court goers as they walk in.

One pair spent about 30 minutes shadow boxing each other as they waited.

The teens are fascinated by media cameras and will ask if they are going to be on TV or in the newspaper.

They also want to know who the media is waiting for, what they did and will try to get in the back of a photo while an interview is being conducted.

Through all their antics upstairs on level three and outside the court one thing is clear: Wednesday in Southport is not a day for punishment. It is a social gathering.

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